Date: April 20, 2025
Author: Amina Delaney

If someone told me a few years ago that I’d one day revert to Islam, I would’ve laughed. Not out of humor, but disbelief. Because for most of my life, I was conditioned to fear Muslims. I grew up hearing that they were dangerous, backwards, extreme. I was taught that Islam was something to be wary of, not something to respect—let alone love.

Then I met Amal.

She was Somali, wore her hijab like a crown, and spoke with this unshakable calmness that made you lean in without realizing it. She wasn’t loud or preachy. She didn’t throw verses at people or argue about religion. She simply was. And somehow, that was enough.

I remember the day after 9/11. We were both in middle school. Everyone was quiet, confused, afraid. And there she was, walking into class wearing a jilbab for the first time. The room went still. You could feel the shift. One of the teachers made a snide comment, something about how “now’s not the time to flaunt religion.”

Amal looked at him straight in the eye and said, “I shall never obey the creation if it tells me to disobey my Creator.”

I’ll never forget that moment. She was only fourteen. Fourteen. And somehow braver than most adults I knew.

At the time, I told myself she was brainwashed. That she’d been raised into it too deep, too early. But every time I watched her, I couldn’t find anything wrong with her character. She was kind without being soft. Firm without being rude. Patient in a way that made you question your own short temper.

Years passed. We lost touch. Life happened. But her example lingered. Slowly, quietly, something inside me shifted. I started reading, questioning, and eventually… praying. At first, in secret. Then openly. And one day, I finally took my shahada.

People ask me how I went from being an Islamophobe to a Muslim. I never know how to explain it in one sentence. But really, the answer is simple.

I met a Muslim who didn’t just talk about her faith. She lived it.

And through her, I saw what Islam truly was.